


Terribly Rude

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Spanking, Over the Knee, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-13 15:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21163121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: Hannibal Lecter deals with Freddie Lounds' rudeness in a rather unique manner.





	Terribly Rude

**Author's Note:**

> On the off-chance someone feels this looks familiar, this was something I published under a different name about six years ago, so it's a relic (and a blast from the past fandom!) I finally decided to dig it out from an old flash drive and made some artificial edits.
> 
> I am shocked - SHOCKED - that there aren't dozens of fics and art out there just like this, because what on earth else was UP with that scene on the sofa!?!? It was clearly a spanking set-up!

“You’ve been terribly rude, Miss Lounds. What’s to be done about that?”

Freddie’s heart was in her throat. His menacing tone and intense stare caught her too off guard to hide the look of fear. Hannibal Lecter’s eyes flicked suggestively up and down her body. She was certainly no stranger to this sort of blackmail, however, the look did not feel quite _sexual._ It rather felt like he was examining a particularly succulent cut of meat. He was so close to her that she could smell his cologne. She didn’t recognize it – something foreign and expensive, surely. Swallowing hard, she forced a mask of no-nonsense confidence onto her face.

“I think I should leave.”

She was proud that her voice barely wavered. Just as she was about to stand, Hannibal placed a hand gently but firmly on her knee. Her body tensed.

“Now, I don’t think that would be fair, do you? Your behavior this evening was not only unethical, but reprehensible. I believe very strongly that rudeness must be corrected, Miss Lounds. Eavesdropping and lying are both very naughty.” He looked directly into her eyes again. “Do you know what happens to naughty girls?”

He _couldn’t_ be serious. Her mouth gaped open. “Dr. Lecter, I –"

“You have a choice, Miss Lounds. You can submit to what I determine is reasonable discipline for your actions, or I can call the police and press charges for trespassing under false pretenses. I will also report you to every committee and society for journalism that I can find.”

Her sharp mind worked quickly, searching for a retort, a bribe, a threat – any means of escape, but he had her. _God damn it_, he had her. This was absolutely absurd, but she could see no other option. She pursed her lips and stubbornly looked away, refusing to hold his gaze.

“Fine,” she muttered quietly, the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Do not mumble, Miss Lounds, it is extremely impolite.”

“_Fine,_” she said, her voice much louder this time and dripping with fury.

He clicked his tongue with obvious disapproval. “I can see this is a lesson you sorely need, my dear.”

Freddie clenched her fists and ground her teeth. She refused to speak or make a sound, even when he wrapped his hand tightly around her wrist and pulled her across his knees. Her body was awkward and ungainly lying over his lap, and she felt like a fool. She was thankful that he couldn’t see her pale face flushed red. She stared at the fabric of the sea foam sofa, sorely regretting her attempt to outfox Hannibal Lecter.

He placed his left palm on the small of her back. “Hand,” he said in a commanding tone. She was unsure what he wanted, and remained still, confused. “Give me your right hand,” he clarified. _Oh._ Reluctantly, she twisted her arm behind her, and Hannibal caught her wrist in a tight grip, pressing it down against her back. he flipped her skirt up, and she silently cursed herself for not wearing pants. She was distressed but not surprised when he hooked his fingers beneath the waistbands of both her tights and panties and worked the stretchy material halfway down her thighs. Her heart pounded and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the feelings of humiliation and fear.

“Miss Lounds,” Hannibal began. “Why are you being punished?”

_Fuck._ Was he really going to do this? Did he have to make her talk? Her mind reeled with a mix of embarrassment and anger. She jumped when he laid his hand softly on her exposed backside, the sensitive skin tingling at his touch.

“Miss Lounds?”

“I … I … was rude,” she buried her face in the crook of her left arm, hoping that would be enough.

“Yes. Yes you were.”

Hannibal lifted his hand and she steeled herself. She heard the loud slap of his first strike an instant before she felt the burning sting spread across bare right buttock. A moment later, the sensation was repeated to her left. Hannibal’s hand smacked down quickly. He kept his palm and fingers stiff and flat making each spank sharp and painful. He focused his attentions on the lower curves of her buttocks, and along the crease where cheeks met thigh.

Freddie had promised herself that she would remain stoic, but her endurance quickly wore out, unused to this sort of abuse to her slender bottom. She began to squirm and yelp at every slap. It _hurt_. Her indignation faded as the pain became her only concern. She bucked and wriggled her narrow hips from side to side, but Hannibal never missed a beat. He was strong, even stronger than he looked, and he held her small body down easily. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she clenched her teeth so tightly her jaw ached. But the spanking was relentless, endless, and the sting built in her tender flesh until she could no longer stand it.

“Please!” she begged, her voice ragged and desperate. “Please, no more!”

Hannibal paused. “Is there anything you’d like to say to me, Miss Lounds?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being rude. Please – "

“Very well. Ten more, and then we’ll be finished.”

_Ten?!_ “Nooooo!” she wailed. “Please!"

Hannibal was not swayed. The final ten swats were delivered with agonizing slowness and she swore that they were much, much harder than any that preceded them. Tears welled in her eyes, and she was unable to stop them from spilling down her face. When he had finished, her bottom ached, but as the pain dulled, a warm sensation pooled in her stomach. She discreetly rubbed her thighs together and arousal throbbed between her legs, and, damn it, she was _wet._

Hannibal ran his fingertips lightly over her punished flesh. She tensed when he slowly trailed a finger down the cleft of her ass and unceremoniously thrust it into her slick hole.  
She gasped as a jolt of pleasure shot up her spine. “Dr. Lecter!” she turned and craned her neck to look up at him, scandalized.

In silence, he slowly pulled his finger out of her and brought it up to his face. He inhaled deeply, looking very much as though he were sniffing a fine wine cork instead of his finger dripping with her sex. Then he wrapped his lips around the glistening digit and sucked up its length. He closed his eyes, a serene look on his face.

“You taste exquisite, Miss Lounds,” His said, voice deep and throaty.

She blushed and turned away again, letting her unruly curls cover her face. She worried her lip in her teeth, suddenly unsure of what she wanted. Her emotions had run the gamut – fear, anger, humiliation, and now arousal. Hannibal Lecter was certainly an attractive man. She found his lilting accent and stiff demeanor rather charming. There was also something about being in this compromising position, perhaps a combination of the pain and humiliation – the strange intimacy of it all, that had set her loins afire.

She let Hannibal guide her to her feet. When she was upright and steady she wiped the tears from her face and reached for the fabric rumpled around her thighs, eager to regain some dignity.

“No,” Hannibal caught her wrist. She furrowed her brow, nervous and unsure. He stood, drawing her close and whispered in her ear. “I want to taste you.”

The arousal flared again, pulsing from her stomach to her groin. Her legs trembled. “Dr. Lecter …”

He gently pushed her onto the sofa, and she winced as she sat down onto the scorched, bruised flesh. Hannibal knelt before her and tugged her undergarments down just past her knees. He easily lifted her legs and tucked his head between her thighs. He pressed his face into the ginger curls nestled between her legs and sucked in a deep, ragged breath. Her heart fluttered at his brazen, unrestrained actions that seemed so unlike the usually cool, calm, and collected Dr. Hannibal Lecter. She shuddered when he pressed his lips softly against her throbbing, swollen nub. She allowed herself relax and leaned back against the sofa, closing her eyes and letting her lips part.

She had never been overly keen on receiving oral sex. It was always just inexperienced tongues poking and prodding in all the wrong places, but, this, _this_ was different. Hannibal tasted, _devoured._ He ran his tongue slowly, almost reverently between her folds, lapping gently at the slickness and kissing every inch.

As she writhed at the attentions of his tongue, the punished skin of her ass rubbed against the rough fibers of the cushion, the sting only serving to intensify the sensations Hannibal was providing. He flicked his tongue rapidly, but lightly across her clit. _Oh,_ that was just the spot. The tantalizing wet drag against her swollen clit was astounding, nearly unbearable in its relentlessness, and her thighs quivered as her arousal built. She threw her head back and gasped through an intense orgasm, digging her nails into the expensive fabric of the sofa and squeezing Hannibal’s face with her thighs while her cunt pulsed over and over against his mouth.

Freddie’s breathing slowed and she drifted back into focus. Hannibal was gazing up at her when she finally opened her eyes. He licked his lips. It was sensual, but there was still something _not sexual_ to his actions, despite the fact that he still crouched between her legs, his face covered in her arousal.

"You have an intoxicating flavor, Miss Lounds.”

She blushed and averted her gaze. It was such a strange thing for him to say, and for some reason, it made her feel _nervous_. He ducked out from between her legs and stood, reaching his hand towards her.

“Up now,” he said.

She took his hand and he helped to pull her shakily to her feet. He put his hands on her shoulders and guided her body, turning her to face the sofa and then pressed down on her back, forcing her to bend at the waist.

“Hands on the cushion, Miss Lounds.”

_Oh God._ Her pulse increased yet again as she placed her palms on the seat. What was he going to do? He flipped her skirt up over her back. Her tights and panties were still tangled around her calves. Behind her, she heard the tell-tale sounds of Hannibal unbuckling his belt. Surely he wasn’t going to … but a part of her didn’t care. A part of her wanted it. _Yes, Dr. Lecter, go ahead and fuck me. Then we can call it even. Then we can forget this ever happened._

She expected to feel his hands on her hips, but instead only heard shuffling followed by the clear sound of skin rubbing skin. _Dear God, was he really_ –

“You will not move until I allow it."

His voice was labored, but sharp. She had been just about to turn her head to confront him, to stop this weirdness, but his voice made her freeze.

As she listened to him jerking off behind her, she began to feel sick, used. Her arousal and the incredible orgasm had not been the doctor’s true intention – they were merely accidental byproducts. None of this had been for her. She closed her eyes, feeling nothing but exposed and ashamed now, and willed it to end. Hannibal’s breath hitched, and she expected to feel him come across her ass or back, but there was nothing. She heard movement and the belt buckle again.

“You may get up and dress,” he said a few moments later.

She stood and hastily pulled her undergarments back up to her waist, smoothing her skirt and then running her fingers through her tangled curls, trying to achieve some level of composure. She turned and her eyes searched the floor, expecting to see a telltale wet spot, but he must have caught the spunk himself. _It would be evidence,_ she thought, a crazy part of her annoyed that he didn’t trust her. _Of course_ he didn't trust her.

_Good,_ she forced the thought; forced herself to feel angry instead of embarrassed, hurt, or worse, still aroused. He _should_ be cautious of her. One day, she would pay the bastard back for this debacle. She swore it to herself.

She composed her face, settling into a mask of disinterest. “Are we finished here?”

Hannibal smiled and chuckled without opening his mouth, the sound coming from deep in the back of his throat. “Yes, Miss Lounds, you have been properly chastised. However, I have one additional request, and then we will consider the score settled.”

_Like hell._ She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You seem rather interested in Will Graham. This is something I understand, more than you know. Miss Lounds, I would like you to write a little story about him.”


End file.
